


The Shoes Make the Man

by Shakespeares_Girl



Category: Castle
Genre: Boot Worship, Crossdressing, Kissing, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakespeares_Girl/pseuds/Shakespeares_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan goes undercover in a Broadway musical, and Esposito poses as his boyfriend to sell the cover.  But there's a reason other than selling the cover that Espo keeps buying tickets to come see Ryan, and for why Ryan finds himself pushed up against a wall backstage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shoes Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Count_B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_B/gifts).



> Please let it be known that I had forgotten all about the scene in the episode where they investigate the Dominatrices until I was mostly done writing this! (scene is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIZ0OOE-La8)
> 
> For Count_B, because I choose to blame her for reigniting my interest in Castle, and for sending me links to the Ryan Report. Written for the wild card square in longfic_bingo.

It starts when Ryan goes undercover in an off-Broadway production of _La Cage Aux Folles_.  The leading man—one of them anyway—hadn’t made it to rehearsal a few days out from opening night, and when the stage manager finally tracked him down, she’d found him dead.  Javier is surprisingly nice about it when he finds out his partner is going to be a cross-dressing chorus dancer in a show about gay men, although since they’ve been friends who occasionally make out and rate favorite male celebrities it shouldn’t be that much of a shock.

Javier is being nice, it turns out, because _his_ cover for being around Ryan and backstage and coming to shows (aside from a strange, somewhat surprising love for musicals) is being Ryan’s hot, construction-worker boyfriend.  After Castle has gotten in his fair share of ribbing (“It’s like the precinct is turning into a Village People music video” was one of the tamer ones), and they’d sorted out the details of the undercover op, Ryan ran out and bought himself a pair of dancing shoes.  Javi came with him, already playing the supportive boyfriend role, smirking at Ryan’s legs and using his own (fake) credit card to pay for the purchase.

He comes to pick Ryan up from his week of rehearsals, then carries the tradition over to pick Ryan up after he finishes curtain calls.  He even watches the show once every few weeks, always bringing flowers backstage when he does.  When they’re back at the station typing up reports for the week, Ryan asks why he comes backstage and doesn’t just wait at the stage door.  “I like looking at your legs in those tights,” Javi says, with a smirk that might look like a joke to anyone else but to Ryan, who is well versed in Javier Esposito’s looks, clearly means _I’m serious but hoping you don’t notice._   Which, when taken with the fact that they like to kiss each other sometimes, totally explains why Ryan finds himself shoved up against a wall backstage.

Shoved up against a wall, in three-inch heels, with Javier pressed up against him, pressing delicious, teasing kisses to his mouth, sucking, licking, sinking teeth into his lower lip and scraping away his lipstick, close enough if Ryan opens his eyes those damn false lashes are gonna brush his cheek . . . to be exact.

And when he arches up and moans, Javi can't help biting the long, smooth stretch of his neck, his hands on Ryan's hips pulling him away from the wall and rubbing him up against Javier's jeans.  Javier totally plays dirty and uses a textbook cop move to knock Ryan's feet wider apart, but Ryan's not complaining because it makes room for Javi's thigh, and there is just no bad there.

His ankles are sort of screaming at him that he's been wearing these heels too long but he can't regret it, because Javi's hand slides down his thigh nails scratching at his skin through the pantyhose, coaxing him into lifting up one of his legs and oh god, this is even better, Javi's even closer now, moaning into his skin about how amazing his legs look in those shoes, and Ryan wants to laugh because damn his feet hurt but Javi kisses him again, sucks on his tongue and slides the hand on Ryan's thigh up, under Ryan's sparkly skirt to land on his ass and squeeze, and the only noise Ryan can even make is high-pitched and a little squeaky.

Ryan finally makes himself let go of Javi's jacket--it's the black leather one that makes Ryan want to tuck himself inside it and never come out--and wraps his arms around Javi's neck, lets Javi take some of his weight, since he's got Ryan's leg hiked up and wrapped around one thigh.  Javier squeezes Ryan's ass again, then rubs slow circles with his thumb, like an apology Ryan doesn't need but also isn't going to turn down.

Javier takes his other hand off Ryan's hip and slides it around Ryan's throat, angling Ryan's face up for better access to his mouth.  Ryan moans as Javi's thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, pulling down a little on his bottom lip

Javi adjusts his grip, fingers sliding up to Ryan's wig, resting on the edge against the nape of his neck, and bites Ryan's lower lip.  Ryan can't help the slightly distressed noise he makes, but Javi soothes the hurt with a flick of his tongue then presses their mouths back together and licks his way into Ryan's mouth.

Ryan moans again and opens for Javier’s tongue, careful and soft at first, then more forceful as Javi settles into the kiss, exploring Ryan’s mouth and licking over his lips.  Ryan shifts his weight a little and gasps because he pulled the ankle strap on his high-heeled tap shoe too tight when he was rushing to get on stage and it’s cutting into his skin.  He shifts back, tries to ignore the way the strap doesn’t ease up despite his best efforts, and he’s just starting to sink back into the kiss when Javier pulls back and looks at him.  “What’s wrong?  You keep twitching.”

“My shoe—the strap’s too tight, it’s fine, we don’t have to—“

“I can kiss you any time,” Javier says, stroking fingers over Ryan’s rouged cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.  “Where’s the dressing room?  I’ll help you out of those shoes.”

“This way,” Ryan says.  He’s a little surprised when Javi takes his hand, but he doesn’t comment.  His castmates who like to linger in the flies and a few of the stagehands who haven’t finished resetting and left yet smirk at him, and one even whistles.  Ryan waves them off and squeezes Javier’s hand as he leads them to the emptied out dressing room.

“Sit down,” Javier says, motioning to one of the folding chairs in front of the mirror.  “Your feet must hurt, after wearing those all night.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, sliding onto one of the chairs and turning toward the mirror.  “Hang on a second, I just need to get some of this off my face.”  He reaches over and grabs one of the packages of makeup wipes left out by Mamma, the oldest pony in the show.  Mamma’s done every show that featured male dancers in dresses since the original production of _La Cage Aux Folles_ , if some of his stories are to be believed, and he’s always leaving water bottles and makeup remover around for the rest of the chorus boys.  Ryan wipes away the rouge and the heavy eye makeup first, then carefully teases off the false lashes.  He takes another wipe and cleans the rest of his face, then offers one to Javi.  “You’ve got lipstick,” he says, shrugging apologetically.

Javier bends a little to see in the mirror better, and wipes away the smeared red around his mouth.  He hesitates before the last mark, then shrugs.  “Kinda sexy seeing where your mouth has been on me,” he explains, catching Ryan’s gaze in the mirror.  He wipes away the last of the lipstick anyway, and takes Ryan’s used wipes too, to toss them in the trash while Ryan scoots his chair back from the counter and bends down to start loosening the straps from the buckles.

“Wait,” Javi says, taking the two steps back to Ryan in an instant and sinking down on his knees.  “Wait.  Let me.”  He waits until Ryan nods, then slides his hands over Ryan’s legs, lifts carefully and bends over Ryan’s ankle.  At first Ryan thinks—well, he doesn’t know what to think.  He thought Javi was going to undo the buckle and take off his shoe, but he’s not.  This is something very different; this is something Ryan’s not sure how to quantify.  Javi’s fingers slide soft and careful over Ryan’s ankle, trace the knob of his bones and the strap on his shoe.  Ryan sucks in a soft breath at the touch, sinking back in the hard folding chair and shivering at the cool metal against his back and the careful, almost reverent way Javier is touching him.  Before he can figure out how to react, Javier presses a soft, careful kiss to Ryan’s ankle, then lower, kissing down the stretch of exposed skin to the toe of his shoe.

For a moment it feels like there’s no air left in the room, no space for it with the way Javier is taking up every shred of space available, but then his breath stutters back and he makes an aborted move to touch Javi’s face.  Instead he ends up gripping the sides of his chair with both hands, shivering again as Javier keeps kissing his foot, pulling at the strap with his teeth and a flick of his tongue.  Ryan can’t help the noise he makes when Javi presses his mouth to the jut of bone just above the buckle, his tongue flickering against Ryan’s skin through the thin shield of his nylon pantyhose.  “Javi,” he says, voice unexpectedly hoarse.

Javi looks up, his mouth brushing across Ryan’s shin as he does.  Anything Ryan might have intended to say leaves his head almost instantly at the way Javier is looking at him, like he’s the only thing in the world worth paying any attention to, like he wants nothing more than to put his mouth back on Ryan’s skin but won’t do anything to make Ryan uncomfortable.

“Javi,” Ryan says again, and this time it’s understanding, permission.  Javier bends his head again and presses his mouth to Ryan’s knee, trailing kisses back down to the ankle strap.  He tongues at the line of the strap again, then plants kisses across Ryan’s ankle to the buckle.  His mouth closes over it, and for a second Ryan doesn’t know what he’s doing, but then he feels the pressure of Javier pulling the strap with his teeth and a few seconds later the buckle comes undone, and Ryan feels like his heart is never going to stop pounding.  Javi looks up at him again, and Ryan can’t look away.

Javi’s hands are sure and steady as he slides the shoe from Ryan’s foot and carefully sets it aside.  He doesn’t break eye contact with Ryan, even as he lifts Ryan’s foot higher.  When he finally does look away, it’s to bend his head and place three soft kisses along Ryan’s arch, his nose brushing over the calloused skin on Ryan’s heel.  For a moment, Ryan feels a shock of panic.  His feet are in horrible shape—he hasn’t been to the spa for the entire length of his run in the show, and dancing on them every night in shoes he had to break-in as he went hasn’t helped.  Javi doesn’t say anything, though, just presses a kiss to the side of his heel, then the top of his foot.  He rubs his palms over Ryan’s foot and calf, soothing and smooth, then carefully places Ryan’s foot back on the floor.

Ryan thinks they’re finished, since Javier put his foot down, but before he can move or speak Javi takes his other foot in his hands and drops his head again.  While he’d like to think the noise he makes at Javi’s touch isn’t shocked, he knows that’s exactly what it was, shocked and high in his throat.  Javi presses kisses to his shin and his ankle, tugging and playing with the strap, his fingers running light and careful over Ryan’s leg while he plays, and Ryan can’t help his moan.

Javi shifts so he can kiss Ryan’s foot, mouthing gently at the buckle but not undoing it yet.  He presses kisses along the line of the shoe, then smooths his thumb over the places he’s just kissed.   This time he pulls the buckle open with his fingers, lingering and brushing over Ryan’s skin, until finally he has to remove the shoe.  He puts it carefully next to the first one, then repeats the three kisses to Ryan’s instep.  This time, though, he trails his lips up over Ryan’s ankle then down, then back up, over and over again, until Ryan’s panting is loud enough to catch Javier’s attention.  He looks up again, and smiles softly, licks his lips, then clears his throat.  “I—uh.”  He stops, then leans down and presses a final kiss to Ryan’s knee.  “I’ll let you get dressed.  I’ve got a table reserved at Marley’s.”  Javi rises, but Ryan stays sitting, his body tingling and his knees unable to even try supporting his weight.  “I’ll wait outside,” Javi says, voice soft.  He walks to the door, and Ryan thinks he sees hesitation just before Javi opens the door and steps out.  He doesn’t say anything, though, not even after he’s dressed in street clothes.  Javi teases him about his purple sweater vest, and it’s all so normal.  Ryan won’t upset that balance, not tonight.  Not until he’s had time to figure out what exactly this was—or is, maybe—and if he wants it to happen again; if Javi wants it to happen again.

They stick to familiar ground, though, for the rest of the night, and then again the next day when Ryan swings by the precinct before his show to drop off the tickets Javi wanted for a show a few nights off.  For whatever reason, they seem to have decided they’re not talking about what happened and if he’s being honest, Ryan still hasn’t sat down and thought it through, figured out what it was, exactly, that was going on.  It doesn’t matter.  He and Javier stick to the status quo, and if Ryan catches Javi looking meaningfully in his direction he pretends he hasn’t noticed, and when he does the same, Javi just smiles a little and goes back to the paperwork he seems to always have on hand.

They stay in their chosen roles—friends, partners, maybe close like brothers but nothing more—until a few weeks after Ryan’s finally finished his stint as a pony in _La Cage Aux Folles_ , the guy who offed the lead actor locked away and the power of chorus gossip as a reliable source of information forever confirmed.

~*~

It happens because Javi can’t keep his eyes to himself the next time he goes shoe shopping.  The last case had involved searching through unused subway tunnels, and after the third extremely questionable puddle, he’d written his shoes off as a total loss.  He usually goes to this mega chain that sells tennis shoes and loafers and sandals and work boots, but they’re closed for renovations and he doesn’t like going too far out of his way.  Instead he calls his sister and asks for a reliable shoe store.

“Oh, go to La Pie, it’s this amazing store not too far from the precinct,” she says.  “Pick up my order while you’re there, I want my pink high heels!”

“Why can’t you get them?” Javi asks, rolling his eyes at her indignant huff.

“I _could_ but I want them for this weekend, and since you’re going there anyway, and it’s not exactly on my way anywhere . . .”

“Fine, fine,” he agrees, laughing a little.  “Fine.  I’ll bring them on Thursday night when I come for Pad Thai.”

He finds the store easily and sure enough, they sell brands that he’s bought before, but they also sell more upscale shoes both for men and women.  After he’s picked out a new pair of shoes for himself he wanders through the women’s section, some half-formed idea about buying his sister a present flitting through his brain.  He picks up a few pairs of pumps, but nothing seems right.  He heads toward the back, where the more expensive brands are, and stops in his tracks when he sees them.

They’re not for his sister, he knows that in an instant.  They aren’t something she’d ever wear, too subtle for her usually flashy style, but they’re perfect for Ryan.  He takes a moment to consider the fact that he wants to buy high heels for his very male partner, but pushes the thought away, shaking his head.  He picks up the display shoe and inspects it.  Countless shopping trips with his mother and sister as a boy had ingrained the rules of a good high heel in his brain, and this shoe meets all the requirements—solid heel that won’t snap with regular use, designed to stay on the foot, easy to work buckle, slight platform to compensate for the extra inch of height on the heel.  He keeps holding on to the shoe as he walks to the counter, heart beating a little fast until he reminds himself that even if he does buy the shoes, he doesn’t actually have to admit that, or give them to Ryan.  He puts the heel on the counter along with his own shoes.

“You need a size in that?” the girl behind the counter asks.

“Yeah,” Javier nods, then gives the girl what he hopes is Ryan’s size.  He has to guess from what he remembers about the heels he’d taken off Ryan _before_ , and he’s not convinced he got it right.  When the girl comes back with the shoes and hands them over for his inspection he remembers to ask for his sister’s special order, then pays for his own purchase.

His cell phone goes off as he’s heading for his car, so he ends up taking the shoes with him back to the precinct, where the team works through until midnight.  It’s slightly unsettling being around Ryan, knowing he just bought high heels for him, but as the night wears on Javi gets more and more sure that he’s going to at least ask.  He figures no harm, no foul, and since Ryan wasn’t exactly protesting the last time there’s a fair chance he’ll say yes.

~*~

Somehow they end up in the break room at the same time, and once Ryan’s handed Javi a mug already filled with coffee, Ryan settles in for a nice, relaxing fifteen minutes of not thinking about murders.

“So,” Javier says, startling him out of the nice hazy coffee-break state he was starting to sink into.  “I was thinking.”

From the way Javi says it, the way he glances across the table at Ryan, Ryan knows instantly that this is about _that_ night, about what happened.  “Yeah?” he asks, a little unsure what Javi’s going to say.

“Did you—could we do that again, maybe?” he asks.  There’s a pause, and Javi adds, “Did you like it?”

Ryan’s breath catches in his throat.  “I—I did.  Like it.”  He thinks, flashes back to that night, to Javier on his knees at Ryan’s feet, hands and fingers strong and sure, mouth pressing gentle, worshipful kisses to his calves and feet, and he flushes a little at the memory.  “I liked it,” he repeats.

“So, we could maybe . . .” Javi trails off and looks like he’s not sure how to finish that sentence.

“I don’t have the shoes anymore,” Ryan says slowly, frowning a little.  “I wore them out and anyway, the precinct would have wanted them back.”

“Right,” Javi nods, then shakes his head, “no, I mean.  I have shoes we could use.  If you wanted.  But only if you want to.”

Ryan’s stomach is beyond churning at this point, and he feels like he’s had too much black coffee, his mouth sour and his throat rough.  “I—I don’t know,” he admits.  Something about that night . . . didn’t frighten him, exactly, but there’s something about what happened that night that he hasn’t put his finger on yet, some unknown element that’s giving him pause.  He wants to say yes, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it.

“Think about it,” Javier says, breaking into his thoughts.  “Let me know what you decide.”

Javi gets up and leaves after that, probably headed back out to the bullpen, but Ryan stays in the break room and thinks about what Javier asked, about what exactly that might mean.  He carefully doesn’t examine what happened that night, and when he gets too close to it, he carefully pulls himself back together and goes back out to finish the last of the paperwork to get the search warrant they’ll need tomorrow.

When Ryan finally gets home he runs through his nightly routine on autopilot, mind blank, until he crawls into his bed and lays thinking, staring at the ceiling as he tries to drop off to sleep.  Instead he finds himself replaying the night in the dressing room and the conversation from earlier over and over, until he finally gives up on sleep altogether and closes his eyes for a different reason than sleep.  He pictures Javier, kneeling at his feet, holding his leg in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to his foot.  His chest gets tight, but the more he thinks about it, the more he _wants_.  He thinks the part about it that’s been bothering him was the feeling that there was somehow an imbalance of power involved, something about Javier on his knees throwing him off, but when he pictures it now, it seems like a simple act of—of adoration.

Ryan sucks in a breath at that.  Adoration.  It’s not an emotion he ever thought he’d apply to Javi, but the more he thinks about it, the more it seems right.  He’s not sure what the proper response to that is, but he does know he wants that adoration and attention again, knows that he’s going to agree.  He thinks about it again, thinks about how vulnerable and open he’d felt, how at Javi’s mercy, and at the same time, how taken care of.   It was a good feeling, he realizes, a little breathtaking since he hadn’t known what to expect, but this time he knows what to expect.

He actually does sleep, despite what his body had been telling him earlier, and when he wakes up to the screeching of his alarm he feels settled somehow, in a way he hasn’t felt since before he’d gone undercover in _La Cage_.

Javier’s already at his desk when Ryan gets in, and he smiles a little at Javi before he sits down.  He pulls open the first file in the pile that used to be his inbox and reaches down to boot up his computer, then looks over at Javi.  “Hey,” he says, and when Javier turns, he nods.  “My answer is yes.”

It takes a moment, but the sudden smile Javier flashes him is totally worth the wait.  He takes a breath and shifts his shoulders a little, settling in with the new information.  “All right, so.  I have a thing with my sisters tonight,” Javi says, “but maybe tomorrow night, if you’re free?”

Ryan nods.  “Yeah, that’s good.  I’ll pick up takeout on my way over.”

Javier nods, looking like he’s about to say more, but Beckett shows up and looks pissed off about something, so they go back to their stacks of files and the occasional secret smile as one of them gets up from their desks for coffee or to deliver paperwork to the right place.

The next day seems interminable.  They haven’t been thrown a case in a few days, which is probably someone’s passive aggressive way of yelling at them to finish their paperwork for once, but it makes for a slow shift.  By the time five-thirty comes around and Ryan’s ready to clock out for the night, it feels like he’s been chained to his desk for a month, not just a day.  It probably doesn’t help that Ryan’s been internally fussing about what he should bring to Javi’s tonight.  On one level he wants to show up with the takeout and pretend like nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen, but at the same time he wore one of his favorite suits today, a three-piece even, no sweater vests today.  He keeps debating.  Stop at the drugstore for pantyhose?  Buy champagne?  Make some sort of extra effort?  It makes sense to just show up and assume Javi’s thought of anything else he might want to see Ryan wear, or eat, or drink.  Javi usually stocks his fridge with enough beer for the two of them, and occasionally with the stout Ryan grew up stealing sips of from his grandfather and still has a fondness for.

In the end, Ryan settles for the food—two specialty pizzas from this place that makes pizza seem haute cuisine—and a bottle of red wine, just in case Javier feels a little more upscale than their normal two-beers-and-coke habit tonight.

Javier buzzes him up as soon as he hears Ryan’s voice on the intercom, and Ryan manages to get upstairs to the right door without dropping anything.  He taps his foot against the door a few times, so he doesn’t knock the wine around or drop the pizzas.

“Hey,” Javi says when the door swings open.  “Need a hand?”

“Yeah, take the pizza and I’ll get the door,” Ryan says, handing over the boxes and stepping inside.  He can’t help noticing Javi’s changed out of his work clothes into worn-in jeans and a v-neck t-shirt.  It’s a good look on him.  Javi steps aside and lets Ryan in, then shuts the door behind him despite Ryan’s offer, and locks it.  Ryan heads for the kitchen, smiling a little about the way Javier ignored his comment about the door.  “Oven preheated or are we eating right away?” he asks, turning around once he’s tucked the bottle of wine into an out of the way corner of the counter.

Javi shrugs.  “Up to you,” he answers.

For the first time since he arrived he thinks about the shoes he’s going to wear later on, thinks about why he’s actually here.  This isn’t just pizza and beer and a ball game or stupid action movie with his partner, this is Javier and Ryan and doing something they’re both a little unsure of but feel a little desperate for.  This is more than he thought he could have, particularly from Javi.  It wasn’t that he’d never thought Javier was open to more than dating girls, more that he just hadn’t let himself think about Javi in a sexual context at all.  If he’d had to pick out Javi’s type before today, he’d never have picked someone like himself, thin and pale and blue-eyed.  Male or female never even figured into his reckoning, but he always pictures Javi with pretty, voluptuous Latinas, or svelte brunettes who wear more mascara than Tammy Faye Baker.  And yet here he is, almost the complete opposite of what he’s imagined Javier likes, invited specifically for something Ryan sort of feels Javi should ask his girlfriend for, not his friend.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and takes a breath.  “Sorry.  Let’s eat now, all I had for lunch today was the last bag of chips from the vending machine and a candy bar.”

Javier looks at him like he knows Ryan’s deepest secrets, but he’s going to let them slide.  “Okay.  You wanna grab plates for us?” he says, setting the pizza boxes down on the counter.

“Sure,” Ryan agrees.  He takes down plates, then the tumblers he knows are for port but that Javi uses instead of wine glasses, and fishes out a set of silverware for himself.  He puts everything on the kitchen table, and Javi walks out to the living room and flips on the TV so they’ve got something to occupy them while they eat.  They settle into chairs that are next to each other instead of across, since that way they can both see the TV, and Javi flips open the top box and grins.

“Is this a Teriyaki chicken pizza?” he demands.

“I know what you like, dude,” Ryan laughs, “that’s why I’m your partner.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the other way round,” Javi grins, and takes three slices.  Ryan slides the box underneath out and takes two slices of the Greek pizza he’d gotten for himself (and for Javi’s seconds).  They eat quietly, occasionally making a remark about the poker tournament ESPN appears to be showing tonight instead of baseball.  Dinner’s over all too quickly for Ryan, though, and when he’s finished, and watched Javi put the plates and Ryan’s silverware in the sink, he knows it’s time.  They’ve put off their conversation long enough.

“So,” Ryan says, doing his best to keep his voice level.  “You want me to—“ he’s not sure how he’s going to finish that sentence.

Luckily Javi comes to his rescue.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Only if you want to, Ryan.  If you changed your mind, that’s fine too.  We can finish watching those idiots play Texas Hold’em, or we can dig out my PS2 and play those old Tomb Raider games and mock Lara Croft’s character design, whatever.  I’m not going to be mad if you decide you don’t want to do this.”

Ryan thinks about it.  “I still want to,” he says.  There’s a familiar thrill of excitement through his body, settling into the soles of his feet and along his arms and fingertips.

“Okay,” Javier breathes.  “Okay.  They’re um.  I put them in the spare bedroom.  You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.  I want to put away the pizza.”

There’s something else Javi’s not saying, but Ryan lets it slide and slowly makes his way into the spare bedroom.  There’s a made-up bed in the room, and a computer desk with an ancient laptop on it, and in the middle of the double bed there’s a pair of high heels.  They’re a soft pinkish color, patent leather new and gleaming in the light.  They buckle at the ankle, but higher than the shoes Ryan wore for _La Cage_ , above the ankle bones.  The straps criss-cross down the shoe, and Ryan can tell when he puts the shoes on it’s going to look like the straps wrap all the way around his feet.  He’s a little intimidated by the heel, and he’d probably never have picked them out for himself, but they’re gorgeous shoes.

Next to the shoes are a pair of thigh-high stockings, lacy band at the top, the kind he remembers seeing in his mother’s dresser.  He takes a deep breath then strips off his suit jacket and vest.  He unknots his tie and slides it out from under his collar before folding it into thirds.  For a minute, he thinks about taking off his shirt, but leaves it on.  He toes off his own shoes and strips out of his pants.  He takes a minute to put all the pieces of his clothes carefully on the desk chair, then adds his socks to the pile so he can put on the stockings.  They’re a fairly standard flesh colored nylon, and they slide on easy, the rubber on the inside of the lace keeping them in place.  He slips into the shoes next.  It’s like they were made for his feet.  He buckles them on, then stands up and takes a few steps.  They’re a lot easier to move in than he expected, too, the platform not high enough to throw him off, and the straps keeping the shoe in the exact right place on his foot.

There’s a mirror on the back of the door, probably left over from the last tenant in the apartment, and Ryan takes a second to survey his image.  He looks good, but there’s something not quite right about it.  The shirt, he thinks.  He’s wearing his underwear still, so ditching his shirt wouldn’t leave him naked, but he still doesn’t want to be that bare, not right now, anyway.  He carefully makes his way to the closet and pulls the door open.  Apparently Javi stores his out of season and wrong-sized clothes here, because there are way more clothes than Ryan expected.  He flips through the hangers until he finds what he’s looking for, a plain white dress shirt that’s a few sizes larger than Ryan normally wears.  He unbuttons his own shirt and pulls on Javi’s.  He looks at his reflection again, and likes what he sees this time.

He takes a moment to put his shirt with the rest of his clothes, then slides onto the bed.  He leans back on one elbow, listening for Javier outside the door.  It’s only a minute or two before Javi knocks softly at the door.

“Come in,” Ryan calls.  The door swings open, and Javi steps through.  He looks at Ryan, a smile on his mouth, then freezes when he actually processes what he’s seeing.  Ryan reviews for a moment and blushes a little at what he must look like reclined on the bed, wearing Javi’s shirt and not much else.  “Sorry, I—“ he starts, feeling like he needs to apologize, but Javier waves a hand and shakes his head.

“No, it’s perfect,” he says.  His eyes roam over Ryan’s stretched out form, the shirt he’s wearing, his legs, his feet.  “Get up on the bed a little more,” Javi instructs.  “So you’re comfortable.”

Ryan obeys, settling back so he’s reclined on the pillows and not propping himself up.  He shifts until his legs are angled toward the edge of the bed, then stills and waits for what happens next.  For the press of Javi’s mouth on his skin, or for the feel of Javi’s hands touching his legs.  He’s nervous again, and feeling a little silly dressed up like this, but the look in Javi’s eyes as he comes closer to the bed quells any fears Ryan has about being laughed at.

“Is that my shirt?” Javier asks softly.

“Yeah,” Ryan admits.  “Do you mind?”

“No, it’s—“ Javi doesn’t finish the thought, just slides carefully onto the bed, one leg tucked up underneath his body, the other braced on the floor.  “Can I touch?” he asks, making a gesture toward Ryan’s legs.

“Yeah, go for it,” Ryan nods.

Javier licks his lips and reaches out a hand to trace down the line of Ryan’s thigh.  He fingers the lace band of the stockings for a moment, then keeps going down, past his knee and his calf to his ankle.  Javi trails his fingers over both Ryan’s legs, examines the shoes and the way the look on his feet, brushes his knuckles over the straps and the places his skin shows through them, thorough and careful.  Once he’s finished his inspection, he carefully picks up Ryan’s foot and presses kisses down his shin; gentle, lingering kisses that make Ryan’s breath catch and his heart speed up.

He leaves the buckles alone this time, just kisses all over Ryan’s foot, almost reverently.  After a final kiss to the top of his foot, Javier switches legs and begins the process all over again, kissing and brushing his lips down Ryan’s leg.  He rubs his hand over the foot he isn’t busy kissing, a firm touch that sends shivers skittering up Ryan’s spine.

“Javi,” he breathes, reaching down on instinct to grab the back of Javier’s head.  Javier looks up at him and smiles.  “Oh god,” Ryan whispers.  Javi’s smile quirks up a little, and he turns his face back to Ryan’s foot, rubbing his cheek against the straps and Ryan’s skin.

“Kev,” Javi murmurs, pressing his mouth back to Ryan’s ankle, “please, can I—“

Ryan sucks in a breath, sharp and fast because _Kev_.  The nickname feels like crossing a line, not even a bad line, necessarily, but a line they’ve been avoiding for as long as Ryan can remember.  “Javier, what?” he asks, not sure what he’s asking about, the use of his name or the unfinished request.

“I want to kiss you,” Javi admits, and Ryan’s still not sure which question he asked, or which one he’s getting an answer to.  “I want—“ Javi reaches out and up and slides warm fingers over Ryan’s face.

Ryan’s breath hitches, and he leans forward, into Javier’s touch, sliding his legs out of Javier’s grasp so they can sit closer together.  He wraps his arms around Javier’s neck, leans in and closes his eyes as he presses his face against Javi’s neck.  “You can kiss me,” he says against the stubble-rough skin.  Javier smells clean and slightly like aftershave, and it’s a familiar smell, from so many days and nights spent in close proximity to each other.  Javi’s hand comes up and cups the back of Ryan’s neck, and Ryan shudders at the touch, at the firm grip after so many soft and gentle kisses.

Javi slides his other hand onto Ryan’s hip, his thumb stroking back and forth a little before he clenches his fingers into the shirt.  He pauses before his mouth meets Ryan’s, so close that Ryan can count the lashes resting on Javier’s cheek when he closes his eyes.  Ryan takes half a breath, his chest swelling as Javi pushes forward.  It’s not like their other kisses, not driven by lust or adrenaline.  This isn’t just soft and sweet, though, like the kisses and touches to Ryan’s feet; this is like coming home, finding the one person, the one place you’re supposed to be in the entire universe.  Javi slides his tongue over Ryan’s lips, and Ryan opens his mouth and sighs.  Javier laughs a little, their breath mingling, and sucks on Ryan’s lip for a moment.  Ryan’s hands rest on Javier’s neck, fingers curling into his nape, scratching slightly at Javi’s short hair.  Neither of them wants to end the kiss, but eventually the need to take a full breath and not just suck in scraps of air when their mouths slide apart for a half-second overrules the romantic notion of a kiss with no end, and they pull apart.

Ryan tilts his head up to the ceiling, unable to help the smile on his face, and Javi buries his own grin in Ryan’s shoulder.  He gets distracted by the slope of Ryan’s shoulder up to his neck, and licks at the skin exposed by the open collar of the shirt, then laughs and pulls away a little to look at Ryan.

“So, I take it you don’t mind when I kiss you,” Javier says, biting at the corner of his mouth to try and keep the radiant smile off his face.

“Not at all,” Ryan confirms, reaching up and pressing his fingers to the bit of skin Javier’s got his teeth sunk into.  He isn’t even bothering to hide his own smile, and once he gets Javier to stop mauling his mouth with his teeth, he presses a quick kiss to the spot.  “Yeah.  You can do that anytime you like.”


End file.
